


Hallow's Eve

by Hekate1308



Series: The Crowley Chronicles [44]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:20:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: Dean can’t for the love of him not understand what he’s doing here. Both Sam and Cas immediately agreed with him that there was nothing about the local legend of a house being haunted every 31st of October of all dates – too convenient, too few details that would suggest a real haunting.And yet.If you survive the night there, the waitress in the diner had told them, you get to take one with you. But as to who or what “take one with you” meant, she had no idea. Turns out, no one has.And yet here he is.He has no idea he'll stumble across one hell of a surprise.
Relationships: Crowley & Dean Winchester
Series: The Crowley Chronicles [44]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/844785
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Hallow's Eve

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't let Halloween pass by without saving Crowley again. Enjoy, and Happy Halloween!

Dean can’t for the love of him not understand what he’s doing here. Both Sam and Cas immediately agreed with him that there was nothing about the local legend of a house being haunted every 31st of October of all dates – too convenient, too few details that would suggest a real haunting.

And yet.

If you survive the night there, the waitress in the diner had told them, you get to take one with you. But as to who or what “take one with you” meant, she had no idea. Turns out, no one has.

And yet here he is.

Maybe he’s just annoyed that their last three cases proved to be busts, especially since yesterday he had to sit through a lecture from a professor who seemed to think he was an idiot simply because he doesn’t happen to have a degree.

Guy was from England, too.

He wonders if his arrogance and accent reminded Sam and Cas of Crowley, too.

They don’t really talk about Crowley. They never really did, even though he killed himself for them; he was just gone, and he’s stayed gone, despite Crowley hardly being a person to take something like dying lying down.

Worst thing about it, though, apart from the fact that he was one of the few who actually had a firm grasp on the demons in Hell?

It’s that Dean actually misses the damn bastard, and that there is absolutely no reason for it, only there kind of is, there kind of are a lot of reasons, but he could hardly expect Sam or Cas to understand, so he’s been keeping shtum.

He kicks a pebble off the sidewalk, feeling utterly frustrated. Je can’t very well bring Crowley back, can he? It’s not like – oh, who is he kidding, of course he’s thought about it.

Ah. There it is. Nothing special, just your usual run-down hey-we-left-this-to-rot-and-now-the-kids-call-it-haunted house.

Dean sighs. Might as well check it out while he’s here.

There’s no warning, no cold spots, no one attacking him, but the second he’s through the door, it slams shut behind him and no matter what he does, he can’t open it.

He reaches into his jacket and takes out his flashlight. Might as well look around and see what this is all about.

Only for the very next room to raise ever more questions.

Because the second he opens it ever so carefully, a voice rings out, a voice he remembers so very well, a voice he was so utterly convinced he’d never hear again he actually needs a moment to recognize it.

It only says one word, and that tiredly and unenthusiastically.

“Squirrel”.

* * *

“Alright” Dean says five minutes later, punching the bridge pf his nose to ward off an upcoming headache, “Let me get this straight. You woke up here a few hours ago and have no idea how to get out either.”

Crowley raises an eyebrow. “That seems to be correct, yes.”

They don’t know much else. Well, they do know that Crowley seems to be in a weird alive-but-dead state – where he can’t sue his powers, of course not – and that there is absolutely no reason for him to be here, but then, Dean doesn’t have one either, does he?

Nothing but his restlessness and the feeling he should check this out.

Crowley is leaning against the wall as he was always wont to do – and good God, now Dean is feeling freaking nostalgic for the days they were up against the Leviathan – studying him, apparently trying to gauge his reaction to all of this.

Then, rather abruptly, he asks, “Any chance that Moose and Feathers are coming for us?”

“I told them I was going for a drink” he shrugs. “Wanted some time alone, to… think.”

Which you clearly excel at, given in what situation we find ourselves i.”

Dean’s cell phone doesn’t work, naturally. Why should it.

“Yes, yes, Peaches – whatever – we’ll just have to –“

And then he hears it.

The howling.

God, how he remembers it. It still sometimes hints his dreams, despite this only being the first death of many he has had to live with.

He meets Crowley’s eyes. “I strongly assume these aren’t yours?”

He simply shakes his head.

* * *

They have exactly one pistol amongst them – Dean’s – so he pushes Crowley behind him. The demon, if anything, seems rather confused by it all.

“Tell me where they are” he directs him just as the door bursts open.

“You really need me to –“

“Crowley!”

He decides to point and call out after that although he insists they look “strangely transparent”.

Not that it helps much; the beasts are fast, and he doesn’t have an angel blade with him.

They’ve pretty soon cornered him – three of them, that’s what Crowley called out, Dean can’t even see him in the darkness, having lost his flash light, he probably made a run for it – and idly wonders if being mauled by hell hounds twice is some kind of record. Probably. 

Well. It’s not like it’s likely he’s going to stay dead anyway.

And then, suddenly, Crowley’s there, ramming what looks like a spike but is probably a leg from one of the tables into one of the hell hound’s sides, causing him to howl and yell and the others to become momentarily disorientated. “Squirrel, run!!”

They do, and for some goddamn reason – must be this place ad this whole survive the night rule – the hounds stop barking as soon as they leave the room.

They listen, but nothing.

A pause.

Then, “Thanks.”

Crowley shrugs. “I needed a moment to locate a weapon. Broke a leg off the table.”

 _Knew it._ “That’ll do it.”

“Not really, but I thought it might distract them long enough.”

Crowley, always three steps ahead. That’s the demon Dean knows. “Yeah, still, thank you. Didn’t much fancy becoming a chew toy gain.”

“So I gathered.”

They are silent as they continue walking through the house.

“Is it just me or is it –“

“Bigger from the inside” Crowley sighs.

“Any chance we can just TARDIS ourselves out of here, then?”

“It is wonderful to see that your sense of humour has not in the least changed…” Crowley trails off then asks, “How long has it been?”

“About three years”.

As if he doesn’t know that it’s been three years, five months and two weeks to the day.

When Crowley doesn’t say anything, he asks, “Where were you?”

“The Empty. Where all dead demons go.”

Yes, but Cas woke up, Cas struggled to get back to them…

“Sleeping, I presume.”

“Had a lot of it to catch up on”.

They continue walking.

Then Dean decides to add, “Thank you.”

“You already –“

“Not for that. For… the other thing. You know… sacrificing yourself.”

“It was worth it to trap Lucifer in the alternate universe. In the end, I won.”

He doesn’t sound like a winner, though. No, he sounds defeated and exhausted, and Dean remembers punching him on his last day alive once more with considerable regret.

“Yes, well, true. At least that’s been dealt with.” When Crowley still remains silent, he adds, “Cas has been staying with us for a while, now. Says there is nothing left for him in Heaven.”

“I know the feeling.”

Yeah, he probably can’t be expected to be welcomed back in Hell, but that doesn’t really matter – Dena and the others are in Hell’s bad books, too, and they’ve managed to get by so far, even if there’ve been multiple deaths thrown in. And really, so far, Crowley has only died twice, once as a demon and once as a human, so he’s been lucky. Not that he’s about to tell him that, especially since Crowley seems to catch a glimpse of something in a mirror on the wall and sighs.

“What is it?”

“How does _We’re about to fight Medusa_ sound?”

“Well, we know what it is, so just don’t look at her.”

And off the go.

* * *

After a while, Dean starts to realize he’s actually having fun. Sure, they keep meeting monsters he never thought actually existed, and the house seems to be a never-ending maze of corridors, and they have no idea what time it is, but Crowley grows decidedly less grumpy as time goes on, even without his powers, and it’s been a while since he’s seen the guy, so give him a break, alright?

“Sorry, but been there, done that with fairy tales” he declares when a dwarfish figure starts prancing around them demanding their first born child.

At least he thinks so until he sees Crowley’s face and decides that, scratch that, it might be a god idea for the childless guy to deal with this, instead of the one who lost his only son shortly before he croaked himself.

At least saying the name out loud – without stumbling, thank you very much – sends Rumpelstiltskin away and they can move on.

“It’s almost dawn” Crowley suddenly announces out of nowhere. “So we should probably say our goodbyes.”

Despite – well, everything – Dean’s heart sinks. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Squirrel, I know you’re not in any way mentally deficient. You’ll get out of here, I won’t. That’s how things turn out. Bad guy, remember?”

Dean decides that he doesn’t much care for Crowley’s newly found fatalism. “So what, you’re giving up?”

“What else am I supposed to do? At least let me have the dignity of knowing when things are over and done with.”

“Too bad ‘cause they aren’t. Not on my watch.”

“Dean –“

It’s the first time he’s said his name out loud all night.

“Shut up. If you’re the bad guy then I’m the hero” (granted, he’s doubted that monicker himself on occasion, but this is not the time to debate that particular issue) “and I am saying we get out of here.”

Crowley shoots him an unimpressed glare. “If you say so.”

“Yes I do. And now come on.”

* * *

Really? Hell hounds, medusas, something that looked like a lamia and now –

“That’s not even a real werewolf” he complains as they run from the beast. “It’s just a big bad wolf, like that fairy tale.”

How nicely symmetrical to the start of this little adventure

“Exactly. This is all about stories” Crowley replies, and Dean wonders if he’s aware that he’s breathing heavily, _rather_ heavily for someone who claims not to need oxygen, really. And it’s not just that – he’d be ready to swear that the demon or whatever he is right now looks… more substantial than when he first came across hi. He’s got some colour back, for one thing.

But they can deal with that later. “Stories?”

“A witch must have placed an old spell on this house” he shrugs. “I remember it somewhat vaguely. The beliefs of the community amplify the –“

“Yeah, but we should be fine, right? It has to be –“

And just like that, they’re standing right at the front door, the wolf tearing through the rooms behind them.

“Alright” Crowley announces, “I can keep it off until you –“

But Dean is done with him being all self-sacrificial, and so he grabs his biceps and drags him through the door that, as it turns out, sems to be working just fine now that the sun is rising.

The second they’re through, all noises from the wolf stop and the house is back to being a regular abandoned haunt.

Crowley, however, still looks around, apparently concerned. “Where’s that thumping coming from?”

Somehow, Dean has an idea and makes a grab for his wrist.

He was right. “Your pulse, genius. It’s your heartbeat.”

Crowley blinks. “But – that means –“

Dean shrugs. He’s learned to take the victories he’s handed, and this is a pretty big one, if you ask him. “Seems like I did get to take something with me, like in the stories. Come on – we’ll have to research this spell. Can’t wait to see Sammy’s and Cas’ reaction.”

Crowley studies him, opens and closes his mouth, and then nods.

Just as well.

Give him some time to figure out this being human thing.

Dean has a feeling it won’t take long.


End file.
